


And Heaven Laughed

by clouder (selfinduced)



Series: Getting Lucky Drabble Verse [3]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-03
Updated: 2008-08-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:34:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selfinduced/pseuds/clouder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>porn battle prompt: yours, kid!fic -- not a lot of actual child involved yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Heaven Laughed

Trade negotiations in the Pegasus are about the same as those in the Milky Way—boring as hell until you get to the running-for-your-life stage, when it quickly becomes life-threatening. They’re still getting into the boring stage, and Cam’s trying to look politely attentive while Teyla talks circles around the local chieftain.

He ends up picturing Sheppard naked. It’s become this thing.

He’s got bruises on his right knee from the last time they had sex in the ‘jumper and really, you think Lantean technology would be a little nicer to him considering that he’s sort of Sheppard’s—well, you know.

Sheppard never gets bruised. It’s like the floors spontaneously develop carpet-like softness without the rug-burn potential and it’s just so many kinds of unfair that he almost resents it but he’s also still sort of rubbing his thumb over the bruise through his BDU’s and if Sheppard happens to be looking over at the minute—well, can the universe really expect him to not get a little hard?

He flicks his eyes towards the huge redwood forest-y area to their left hopefully when their eyes meet and Sheppard’s blaze briefly as he gives an almost imperceptible nod. Trick of the light, has to be, but hot damn. Cam swallows reflexively, mouth dry.

“Colonel Mitchell and I will explore the woods a little bit if you don’t mind, the trees are similar to those from my homeland and I’d like to take a look at them.”

-

“Hi,” Sheppard smiles, incongruously friendly when Cam shoves him against the nearest available giant tree-trunk and pins his wrists.

“Hi yourself,” Cam grins, closing in on an earlobe, reveling in the full-body press. “Trees, really?”

“Well, they’re cool.” Sheppard narrows his eyes and lifts his chin a bit, exposing his neck.

Cam’s too busy licking at it and wriggling his fingers under Sheppard’s vest and shirt to touch skin and slip under the waistband and unbutton his fly to mutter placations.

Sheppard’s hands are on his ass and squeezing him close so they can grind and he wants to go down, wants the mud of this forest on the knees of his uniform, but this is good too, hips rocking into each other and pausing kisses to share breath. Sheppard groaning, hands clenching on Cameron’s hips, locking eyes—and there’s that blazing thing again, when the light catches the gold flecks in John’s (because right at this moment he’s John and he’s Cam’s) eyes and he falls into it for an endless moment, coming almost (mostly) in his pants and belatedly worrying about how that might look.

Turns out, Sheppard has a handkerchief in one of his pockets, wrapped around some C4. Cam laughs, brings Sheppard’s hand along with it to clean himself off and ends up lolling against their tree-trunk while making out, slow and sweet and proprietary in the mid-morning sun. Cameron really likes this new part of their definitely-very-gay sex, kissing like they have all the time in the world in some alien forest in an alien galaxy. It’s romantic, if you squint at it right.

This is, of course, when they hear the squall.

“What the hell is that?” he frowns, thinking that it sounds like—but it can’t be—they’re too far from the village, and,

“Sounds like someone needing a diaper-change,” Sheppard smirks calmly, which is an indication of clear and present danger as far as Cam’s concerned.

“A—how do you—never mind,” they look around and find a convenient hole on the other side of a tree-trunk fairly close to them that looks like it was slagged by lightning. Said hole contains, yes, a baby.

-

“A—how did you—never mind,” Sam says, blinking rapidly at them.

“That’s what I said!” Cameron points at the kid, who is currently cradled comfortably (familiarly!) in Sheppard’s arms and it’s sort of disturbingly cute and sweet and, well, fucking weird. Where the hell did Sheppard learn to be so good with those?

“Well, we can’t keep it.” Sam nods finally, looking from Cam to Sheppard and back to Cam as if expecting mutiny.

Which, Cam totally would, as soon as he’s aware that that’s the plan, but nothing’s been discussed yet, and it’s—well, it’s a baby. This is the one relationship where he just hadn't seen this coming.

“The Nirdoans left her out to be culled. They think it is a gesture that will prevent the rest of the village being culled,” Teyla supplies.

Sheppard glances up at that, “They don’t know we took her. We can’t take her back. Even if they wanted her back, it would totally screw up diplomatic relations.” He turns back to the kid, who is currently tugging at his index finger with both fists.

It’s—well, it’s kind of—adorable.

Sam narrows her eyes. “Fine, she’s your responsibility. After Dr. Keller checks her out, she goes to your quarters.”

Sheppard, sadly, doesn’t seem fazed by this, although he looks up surprised and almost as if he’ll protest for about half a second.

Now, all Cameron knows of babies from his extended family experience is that they’re cute and messy and good only when they belong to people that are not you.

He envisions three a.m. feedings and diaper rash and this? Does not bode well for the future of Cameron Mitchell continuing to get laid any time soon.

What he says, though, is, “It's gonna need a name. What about Cody?”

Sheppard smiles back at him over his shoulder, and he sort of knows right then and there that this is it. And, God.

Cam really, really, knows how to pick ‘em.


End file.
